Jurassic Park: Edge of Chaos
by EyeofRa90
Summary: Evolve...or die.
1. Prologue: Hunted

_**Jurassic Park:**_

_**Edge of Chaos**_

_**Prologue: **__**Hunted**_

Dr. Harold Jenning raced through the dense foilage of the dark jungle-exhausted, horrified, about to die. His clothing was shredded and worn.

He looked over his shoulder, panting. He'd been running forever.

He zig-zagged through a grove of trees, a desperate attempt to avoid his pursuers. But the ruse was futile.

He ran as fast as he possibly could, a broken field sprint, hopping over branches, flying across the open area at top speed. Over a log, through a water puddle.

Running for his life, Jenning stopped and turned.

Now he heard strange hissing noises from within the underbrush.

And it was no snake.

About fifty yards away, the tops of three animal heads rose up slowly, backlit by the full moon. In the distance, the heads could see the human, his image resonating in the piercing, reptillian eyes. The heads descended, back into the foilage.

Cold, reptillian eyes. Eyes of the most piercing amber hue.

Curving obsidian claws stained the bushes with red as they passed.

"_Those eyes_..." Jenning thought. "_Those horrible yellow eyes_..."

Long, lizard-like tails snaked through the bushes.

Something new was heard. A not-too-distant high-pitched cawing. A low, haunting moan. A sound that echoed from the darkest nightmares of the mammalian brain.

Jenning stopped suddenly, dead in his tracks, allowing himself momentarily to be paralyzed with fear.

The cawing sounds grew louder and more terrifying. He knew his pursuers well. They always grew louder when they were about to feed...

He had helped breed them. Nurse them, nurture them. An odd paradox, and a dark irony, that he was sought by them now.

For sustanence.

For sport.

Jenning turned back again, an action primitive and irresistable. He had to know that survival was still a possibility.

A single, screaming idea dominated his thinking: escape. He was running on pure survival instinct.

Jenning continued forward, oblivious. Now behind him, four heads rose up in the foilage. And then descended. On all sides of him, the grass rippled as animals moved forward toward him, undetected, inexorable as torpedoes.

His face fell, defeated. Around him, four torpedo trails headed straight for him through the tall foilage. Bodies, streamlined and powerful made their approach. Jenning simply closed his eyes.

It would all be ended soon.

And it was.

In one clawing stroke.


	2. Chapter 1: Island of Death

_**Chapter 1: Island of Death**_

Twenty executives sat around a conference table in the boardroom of the InGen corporation. All were in expensive suits, most were over fifty. Empty coffee cups and fast food containers on the table hinted that everyone had been there a long time.

A familiar voice resounded through the boardroom as every grim face of the board members stared toward the front of the room.

_"--These creatures require our absence to survive, not our help. And if we could only step aside and trust in nature, life will find a way.."_

The source of the voice was the late John Hammond, the founder of InGen and creator of Jurassic Park. His image was on a closed circuit TV screen, footage of an interview given back in 1997.

A hand rose, which held a remote control, and pointed it at the TV screen. It went blank. The lights came up.

A mock-applause echoed through the room.

"Moving. Elequent. But unfortunately, it does not change our situation."

A chairman took the podium.

Parker Quaritch, mid-forties, a man with the determined look of someone who insists the buck stop on his desk. With a stern look, he pressed a folder against the conference table: TOP SECRET.

"As you all are aware, almost a month ago, we lost contact with the research operation on Isla Muerte. Due to an accident, man-made or....otherwise, all contact with both the research facilities on the island and their personell have ceased. We've waited long enough, gentlemen."

"Regardless of the cause, regardless of damage to the operation or, Heaven forbid, personell, we are nonetheless forced to collect results. Our 'friends' are giving us only a limited amount of time to offer said results, or we are going to lose our contract to Biosyn labs. Given how much we've invested in the research on Isla Muerte, losing the contract could bankrupt InGen."

He gestured to the folder on the table. "I can only assume that the disruption on Isla Muerte relates to our problem in some way."

He warmed up. Not a bad performer.

"Gentlemen, this boardroom needs no history lesson. InGen has been bleeding from the throat for years. Now, I'm not one to speak ill of the dead, but for years, John Hammond left us with nothing but debt. You, our board of directors, have sat patiently and listened to ecology lectures while Mr. Hammond signed your checks and spent your money. You have watched your stock drop from seventy-eight and a quarter to nineteen flat with no end in sight. But this time, we still hold a significant product asset that we can harvest indefinately."

He motioned for a slide projector to be turned on. A large map came up on the far wall behind the podium. Off the coast of Costa Rica, there was an area that has been digitally highlighted. Quaritch put a pointer on the map, crossing westward, through the Pacific Ocean. There were dozens of islands, but in the highlighted region, there was a semi-circle of five. Sorna. Matanceros. Tacano. Pena. And Muerte. Underneath the whole island chain, there was a bold legend: THE FIVE DEATHS.

"Enough research to wipe out years of infighting and damage control, enough to not only send our stock back to where it was but to double it. Triple it. In short, I move that a resolution be put to into immediate vote and effect. Do I have a second?"

"I second the motion, Mr. Chairman," said a board member. "Please poll the members by a show of  
hands."

"All those in favor of InGen Corporate Resolution 215B, please signify your approval by raising your right hand."

Every hand in the room went up. Quaritch stood back, victorious.

Satisfied, Quaritch looked back at the highlighted island.

Isla Muerte.

Island of Death.


	3. Chapter 2: In the Rock

_**Chapter 2: In the Rock**_

It was high noon in the Badlands of Montana.

Lodged in the cracked earth were the partially-exposed fossilized remains of a Velociraptor, a carnivorous dinosaur. The skeleton was joined by several other members of it's species. A sweeping panorama of a dinosaur dig surrounded the fossils, a major excavation filled with workers shoveling earth and stone, making measurements, taking photographs, plaster-casting, scribbling down notes, and conferring with each other.

At the center of all this activity was one man.

In a roped-off area that surrounded the exposed bones of the raptors, was Jack Turner, associate professor and site manager. Good-looking, early twenties with intense concentration you wouldn't want to get in the way of, carefully examined the fossilized remains.

Joel Moore, a fellow colleague, was working with him. He leaned in close and studied the fossil too, gently painting the exposed bones with plaster-of-paris.

Jack lay on his belly, completely absorbed in a small piece of bone. A group of twelve younger students, many of them fresh out of a university and with notebooks in hand, awaited his next sentence. Jack's nose touched the tiny bone. He brushed the bone with a toothbrush. Then he decided on a quicker way to clean it. He licked it. Excited by his discovery, he got to his feet, wiped a bead of sweat from his brow, and addressed his students, who listened raptly.

"Right calcaneus of an juvenile female raptor. Mild stress fractures. What's this tell me?"

Students looked at each other. A tentative hand. Jack continued.

"It tells me that this little lady has been in more than a few fights. Come on guys. This is textbook stuff."

"Go easy on em', Jack." Joel laughed, wrapping the freshly painted fossils in gause. "They haven't been out of the university as long as you have."

"Exactly. But they need to follow people like John Ostrom and Robert Bakker. They spent most of their lives in the field."

"You know Jack, I think we might be on to something here. This could be bigger than the _Raptor vs. Proto_ in the Gobi Desert."

"You've got a point there, Joel. This could actually be good for my book," Jack said, thoughfully contemplating. "I should be taking notes. Where's my notebook?"

A 20-something female student ran like a gazelle across the arid land. Exuberant, she left a trail of dust behind her. She zipped past student guarding the cordoned area.

"Your notebook, Jack," she said, handing him his bright-red notebook.

"Speak of the Devil," Jack joked. "Thanks Jean."

"You're still thinking about writing your own book? Thank God, I thought you'd given up."

"All it is is notes so far, so don't get your hopes up." Jack assured. "Just an evaluation; 1-200 pages, nothing fancy."

"You really are trying to follow in his footsteps, aren't you?" Joel quizzed.

"Not quite. He wrote _two_ books. I hardly have the patience for just _one_."

Jack flipped the pad it opened, thumbed to a free page, and began jotting down notes here and there. His attention was more on the fossils than anything else. Like a writer more concerned with the content of a story more than the _writing_ of it. "The way these fossils are positioned, like this one here--this suggests some sort of defensive and/or offensive stance."

"A defense posture against a vicious, blood-thirsty T-Rex?" a female colleague suggested, only half-joking.

"Or maybe to select the smaller, more tender leaves in the higher branches with which to build a nest for the young," suggested another.

"I bet is was a mating ritual," Joel added.

"No. They were out hunting together," Jack theorized. He crouched among the fossilized remains. "The males and females alike. They secured the young in their nests, about twenty yards from here. Unfortunately, not much left over there. The dismembered tenontosaurus bone over there - that would have been lunch. Still doesn't add up. What killed our raptors in a lakebed, in a bunch like this?"

"A drought? The lake could've been shrinking.." asked Lauren, a bright young an intern at the digsite and a junior at State.

"I just hope we come up with something that makes _sense,_" Joel added

"And preferably before I go back to the museum in a few days," Jack explained.

"Do they need you that bad?"

"Of course not. They just need someone who can be a tour guide, identify the displays for the visitors, do a little storytelling, stand up and look pretty and who knows how to properly code and catalogue their exhibits for awhile and then send me right back."

"Their loss."

"And my gain," Jack smerked. There was nothing that could keep him away from this for very long. This was his livlihood. The digsite was the one place where he could really think.

He had to be around _them_.

Jack got up and dusted himself off.

For the first time in the entire day, Jack caught a glimpse at the rest of the digsite. Exposed outcroppings of crumbling limestone stretched for miles in every direction, not a tree or a bush in sight. In the dig itself, the ground was checkered with excavations everywhere. There was a base camp with five or six teepees, a flapping mess tent, a few cards, a flatbed truck with wrapped fossils loaded on it, and a mobile home. There were a dozen volunteers of all ages at work in various places around the dig. Volunteers were from all walks of life, dinosaur buffs. Three or four of them had children with them, and the kids ran around, like in a giant sandbox.

Lauren looked past him. She was one of only a handful of female collage students working at the site, and the one most smitten with her supervisor.

And Jack was a charmer. He didn't mean to be, it just happened on it's own.

At five feet eleven he was built like a soccer player; lean muscle mass, fine features, piercing blue eyes beneath medium-cropped dark hair. And he was charming, quite a gentleman - intellectual; he could match whits with anyone on the digsite -- very handsome; the ladies loved him.

Apparently so.

Students continued their work in the large excavation base camp, carefully scraping stone away from dinosaur fossil.

"It's a shame Dr. Grant couldn't be here to see this," Lauren observed. "He would've been proud of you."

Jack smiled. "I think he would've been proud of _all_ of us," he replied.

"When I first met Alan, I was in collage and he was giving a lecture about the importance of paleontological study. Now, the courage of this man was just tremendous. He actually said to the entire room _"If you want to be a good paleontologist, you've got to get your head out of the books and into the real thing"_. Of course, it pissed everyone at the school off, but the message definately sank in. And that's exactly what I chose to do. So, I threw down the books, made my choice, and here I am."

They continued through the digsite, observing the work-in-progress. An artist's camel hair brushed carefully swept away sand and rock to slowly reveal the dark curve of a fossil, a claw. A dentist's pick gently lifted it from the place its had laid for millions of years. Jack walked up as the group of diggers worked on a large skeleton.

Jack's head buzzed. "Six complete skeletons...such a small area...the same time horizon."

"They died together?" Lauren asked.

"The taphonomy sure looks that way," Jack answered.

"If they died together, they lived together. Suggests some kind of 'social order' between raptor clans."

"So it would seem..." Jack said, a hint of doubt in his voice.

Max Patel, computer technician to the excavation, black hair and goatee, a little hefty, emerged from a nearby tent.

"Jack! I've got something here you might wanna see!"

"Ok! Be right there!" Jack answered.

Jack turned to a few of the other workers.

"Jay, keep making up the plaster batches. Whatever ratio you're using, it's perfect. Ann, no digging after five. When the temperature drops, those bones get too brittle. Tom, I don't want any tourists walking over these raptors. I don't care if the Governor of Montana is with them, just you guys."

Jack and the others entered the tent, paleontology equipment and notebooks littered the desks inside. The tent also served as the dig's 'office'. There were a few other wooden tables set up, covered with bone specimens that were neatly laid out, tagged, and labeled. On others were ceramic dishes and crocks, soaking other bones in acid and vinegar. Jack and Lauren arrived to where several volunteers were clustered around a computer terminal that was set up on a table in a small tent, its flaps lashed open.

Max sat back down at the computer desk, where he had put a greasy, half-eaten sausage sandwich.

"Max," Jack scalded. "You know the rules - no food or drink _anywhere_ near the specimens."

"Jack," Max pleaded. "I have been at this for twelve hours. The only thing I had to eat this morning was a can of soup and some soda crackers. I need this food!"

"It's so pathetic when you beg," Jack quipped.

All eyes turned to the computer screen. The screen suddenly came alive, yellow contour lines tracing across it in three waves, detailing the dinosaur skeletons.

"Maybe we can shed some light to that theory of yours', Jack." Joel joked.

"I'm telling you, there is sufficient evidence to support that raptors maintained a 'clan-like' social network, joining with other velociraptors within the subspecies if neccesary for a hunt or defense."

"Even so, that kind of evidence can't be backed up by fossils _alone_. That's all behavior."

"Oh yeah?" Jack pointed to the screen, outlining the head of the spicimen. "What is that?"

"V. Mongoliensis."

"Ok, now what is _that one_?"

Joel sighed. "Mongoliensis."

"Ya sure about that?"

"Jack, that is V..." Joel almost did a double-take. "Antirrhopus."

Jack crossed his arms victoriously. Then he pointed back to the second figure, bringing his index finger to the fossil's large skull.

"See the more distinctive resonating chamber?"

"Wow. You know your stuff after all, Jack."

"Raptors. Dr. Grant beat it into me like mad."

"K whatever, Mr. Break-The-Grant-Cardinal-Rule." Max teased.

"What?"

"Computers," he verified.

Jack didn't budge. "Grant hated technology, but he could hardly argue with the results."

They continued to study the digitally-enhanced fossils. Two figures in particular, clasped to each other as if as twins, caught their eyes.

"Now, it's a little distorted, but it's just the computer."

"Definately Velociraptor," Jack varified. "Definately."

"But here--the bone structure, it's different than the other raptors. It's larger. What does that mean?"

Jack realized without even thinking. He instantly knew.

"Deinonychus," he said.

"Are you sure?" Max asked.

"Positive." Jack declared. "Look at how their front and rear claws are intertwined with each other."

"That was no mating ritual," Jack said, the weight of the discovery sinking in. "They were _fighting_."

"What were they fighting over?" asked Lauren.

"Could have been a dozen things," Jack answered. "Foranging territory, food, nesting grounds. And look, increase magnification by 500."

Max zoomed in on the skull of the velociraptor locked in combat with the new 'contender'.

"This raptor fossil has a bite mark through the top of it's skull. The bite matches that of a Deino."

"So?" asked Joel.

"They were _killing_ each other." Jack replied with grim fascination.

The group stood their for several long moments, gazing at the two ancient enemies, locked in an eternal dance of death.


	4. Chapter 3: The Expedition

_**Chapter 3: The Expedition**_

_An African savannah appeared in shades of fluorescent green, seen through night-vision goggles. _

_An animal yelp came from the left and the green vista swept abruptly toward it. The world blurred momentarily, then came into focus on a field of tall grass. The grass rippled in a complex pattern as animals moved stealthily through it. One animal head popped up above the grass for a split-second, teeth bared, a white stripe between its eyes._

* * *

Lance Devlin, wildlife documentarian - early thirties, slightly overweight, sat in the smoky screening room. He was nervous, his eyes flicking from one studio executive to the other, trying to read the room. A wildlife documentary for a popular TV show was in the process of being shown.

* * *

_"Hyenas," a voice narrated. "Ace Face is the striped snout." _

_The goggles swept ahead of the hyenas to their prey. It was a herd of African buffalo, standing belly-deep in the grass, agitated, bellowing and stamping their feet. _

_The show's host,"Jungle Jim," instantly recognizable by his khaki safari outfit, deep tan, Australian twang, pseudo-serious delivery, and shaggy hair, scurried up and over a rock face. His African assistant, Nfume, followed. Closer now, they watched as the hyenas rushed the herd, running through it, trying to break it up._

* * *

"How much more is there?" asked Eisner, the lead network executive.

"Another five reels." said an assistant.

"Lights up." Light flooded the room as the washed-out image on screen was extinguished. Devlin noticed a sleazy-looking executive wake up with a start.

"This is it? This is what our forty grand paid for, Devlin? Another mediocre safari?"

"Hyenas?" asked an executive. "That's the best you can give us? There weren't any _lions_ around? Leopards? Cheetahs?"

"No. They didn't return the phone call to set up the meeting!" Devlin exclaimed, sarcastically.

"It's not the principle, it's the money." Eisner said.

"Lance, you've been in production for over two months -" added another exec.

"Yes, I understand that - but fellas, we're not making these kind've films anymore - and I'll tell you why." Devlin got out of his seat and moved to the front of the room.

"The story has changed, the screnario is completely different." He turned to face the room, whipping out a laminated map.

"Fate intervened!"

"For some time now, I've been planning an expedition, an excursion of sorts, to a remote island 307 miles off the coast of Costa Rica. A widely unknown location, rumored to be the site of extensive animal-genetic research, a place that has been heard about only in media speculation...until now."

"Oh no...is he serious?" asked an executive, seeming to already know where this tale was headed.

"On this island, Isla Muerte, there is a laboratory and research centre, where animals from millennia passed are hatched and raised."

"Whoa! Lance - slow down!" said Zelman.

"He's asking for more money, isn't he?" asked the sleazy executive.

"He's asking us to fund a wild goose-chase." said Eisner.

"The InGen corporation squandered an extraordinary opportunity and we still know next to nothing about the lives of these animals. Not their lives as man would have them, behind electric fences, but in the wild. Behavior in their natural habitat. We _could_ have that."

"Lance, we know where you're going with this and we're telling you right now-it's not gonna happen." Eisner said.

Lance continued, ignoring him. "After a supposed 'accident' on the island, the animals were freed to fend for themselves. And they are. For almost a month, InGen has been fighting to keep the incident secret. Now I want to go there and document them."

There was an awkward silence. Everyone was looking at Devlin as if he were a madman.

"Don't tell me you haven't heard of the secret research and experimentation conducted on that island?"

"Rumors, conspiracies. All bullshit of course." remarked the sleazy exec. "Nublar's an old, sad story, so is Sorna."

"Lance, what you're talking about is not only insane, it's impossible. Even if the rumors were true, that island chain was turned into a preserve years ago. It would be illegal to disturb the island itself or the wildlife." Eisner explained.

"Fellas, I'm talking about a ancient world, here...long-since vanished from the earth! The remnants of an extinct ecosystem - the most spectacular thing you've ever seen! That's where I'm gonna shoot my next documentary!"

"Lance, would you step outside for a moment?" asked Eisner.

Devlin looked at them, the executives avoided eye contact.

They all knew what Devlin was suggesting. And they'd have no part of it.

Devlin walked out into the screening room lobby. Taglines and posters were framed upon the walls of the studio, such as "_Explore Your World_" and "_There's no thrill like discovery._" Colin, his long-suffering assistant waited on a sofa. Devlin pointed suddenly to the door.

"We're leaving." Devlin declared.

Eisner looked to the other executives. "Lets not write him off. He's hot-headed sure, but Lance Devlin's made some interesting documentaries, he's had a lot of...minor success. Very...minor."

"He's a preening self promoter..." the sleazy executive said, interrupting. "An ambitious no-talent! The guy has "loser" written all over him."

"Look, I understand your disappointment." said Eisner.

"He's washed up. He can't direct. He doesn't have the smarts." added Zelman.

"This little upstart's gonna bankrupt us." said another.

"The animal footage has value?" asked Eisner.

"Sure..._Discovery_ is desperate for stock footage." answered Zelman.

"Then sell it! Scrap the doc! We gotta retrieve something from this mess." Eisner declared. He gestured to the young assistant.

"Get him back in." The young assistant opened the door, stepped into the lobby which was...

"Mr. Devlin?..."

...empty.

Devlin and Colin exited the studio and into the warm air of the San Diego California morning. Colin hurried down the sidewalk with Devlin - struggling under the weight of 8 film cases. Devlin was looking back and forth for transportation.

Colin followed Devlin, who stepped off the curb and approached a bus. He cut across the busy mid-morning road, Colin hurrying behind.

"Looks like we're on our own this time, Colin."

"Lance, you can't be serious!"

"Colin, have you ever heard the phrase "A life without risk reaps no reward"?" Colin was silent for a beat. "No? Prolly cus I made it up! I'm not about to let the chance of a lifetime just slip right through my hands. We leave in three week's time."

Colin and Devlin both boarded the semi-crowded public bus. They sat in one of the back seats, isolated from the other passengers. Colin was feverishly scribbling on his notepad.

"You do realize none of the camera equipment is prepared for _anything_ yet. We have no permits...no visas..."

"That's why I have _you_, Colin." Devlin verified.

"We have no insurance, no foreign currency - in fact, we have no currency of any kind -" Colin continued pessimistically.

"Don't worry Colin - I've had a lot of practice at this. If you want to get something accomplished, you have get it done yourself. No one else is gonna help you."

The bus cruised along the crowded streets of San Deigo. Devlin turned away, his brain whirring...thinking hard...

"We gotta delay the shoot - shut production down...We can't sail in three weeks!"

"Not an option."

"Lance! Are you out of your mind?"

"This is going to be the most extraordinary living fossil record the world has ever seen."

"So what?"

"I've been putting this together for over a year now."

Devlin took out a thick file folder and opened it on his lap. Inside, there were memos, applications and photographs.

"I have some personal suggestions for our team, phone numbers, contact info, etc. They won't believe you about what they're going to see, so don't bother trying to convince them. Just use a checkbook to get them there. I'll fund the expedition through my personal account, as much money and equipment as we need, but we leave as soon as possible. It'll leave me bankrupt...but the price will be nothing compaired to the reward. If we hesitate now, everything goes to pieces."

'Lance..."

"We'll need an expert for the kind of animals we'll be seeing, someone with good credentials. Relatively unknown, to keep the budget down. There's one I've had my eye on for awhile; Jack Turner. Paleontologist, very good at what he does. He's got theories about social interaction among hunter/scavengers that I bet he'd be dying to prove. If we can convince him to go, it'll be a major coup."

"But how will we know that the scientific community will take what he'll publish seriously?"

"Trust me, what he'll publish, the scientific community will_ have _take seriously."

Colin just shook his head, flipping through the file in disbelief.

"For this one, we'll use forensic photographic methods, Hasselbladt-style still cameras, high definition video. When the trick photography analysts tear our evidence to shreds, it'll make it impossible for them to say there was enhancement or computer-generated imagery."

"I'm not going, Lance." Colin decided out of nowhere.

"Colin, this is our chance to give something of real value to the world. I can't walk so far and leave no footprints; die and leave nothing with my name on it. I wont be known for just my failures." Carl declared. He would not allow himself to go down in history as a lunatic. He was too smart. Too proud.

"This is a chance at redemption. For both of us. There's no time to back-track, we can only go _forward_."

Devlin looked at Colin's face. The melodrama was paying off.

"Of course..." Colin began after a beat. "...in an environment like the one you described, we'd also need...'protection'. In that kind've place, we won't be able to rely on someone off-screen. We need guns and tasers, not anti-venom and a wrangler or two."

"I said I'd find someone." Devlin turned and looked at Colin briefly.

"For Godsake, Colin - think like an optimist for once. Where's your sense of adventure? Take a friggin' chance, will ya please?"

The cab screeched to a sudden halt in mid-traffic. Devlin exited the bus with his copy of the files.

"And start callin' someone, will ya?" he shouted to Colin. "We need to get our affairs in order."

Devlin looked up toward the window, Colin looked out perplexed.

"Nothing really worth having ever comes without risk, Colin babe," Devlin explained. "Trust me, this will be the greatest project of_ all time_." Devlin banged the side of the bus with his hand, and then strode off confidently along the street.


	5. Chapter 4: The Offer

_**Chapter 4: **__**The **__**Offer**_

_In an old dollar theater, Jack sat alone, watching the old classic black-and-white creature feature, **King Kong**, slowly eating popcorn, intently watching the movie. A dinosaur, a T-Rex, was angry and out for blood. As the suspense built, Jack leaned forward in his seat. The Tyrannosaur snarled at Kong and he roared back in turn. The beautiful heroine lay perched on a nearby branch as Kong and the Rex lunged at each other._

Jack smiled. He'd been coming to theaters like this since he was twelve years old. He ate these kind of movies up more than the popcorn sitting in his lap.

There were hugely better things to do with his spare time, of course. But this was where his childhood was.

He watched the two savage on-screen behemoths battle. A prehistoric sumo-wrestling match.

_Kong grabbed the Rex's jaws in both hands forcing it open. He rolled the Rex over and over, using all his strength to force the Tyrannosaur's jaws open before ripping them clean apart at the hinge. The Tyrannosaur sprawled back, dead. Kong put his foot on the Tyrannosaur and beat his chest, triumphantly with a deafening roar. _

_His blood was up, he was ready to take on the world._

A short time later, a car pulled up to the _Montana Museum of Natural History_. "Thanks, Denny," Jack said, opening his door.

As the car drove away, Jack climbed the steps, still contemplating his discovery in the Badlands.

Raptors. Different subspecies, engaging in "clan-wars" with enemy dromeosaur species. No evidence in the history of paleontology had even come close to offering this kind of highly-evolved socio-communication among dromeosaur packs of the late Cretacious. It suggested a hierarchy. Perhaps the first in known history. A tremendous evolutionary advantage. A huge breakthrough. The possibilities were endless.

The huge stone building of the museum towered above him. The warm light from the afternoon sun washed over the grand columns and tall archway. Large banners hung on each side. They showed images of dinosaur skulls.

Jack made the last few steps and darted toward the revolving doors.

He made his way into the cavernous museum, through the Hall of Mammals and the geology exhibits to the Dinosaur Wing.

The marble floors were clear around the large _Tyrannosaur Rex_ skeleton that greeted visitors_._ In this newly-finished display, a skeletal T-Rex and a Velociraptor were locked in combat.

Jack happened upon a group of kids touring the museum. A first grade field-trip was in progress. Their teacher smiled at her small brood.

"Kids, we're now entering the dinosaur wing of the museum." she said.

The kids followed her, some playing with plastic dino toys from the museum gift shop. Fascinated and intrigued, Jack casually trailed the group as they entered the wing. There was a giant large clock on the wall within the wing, presenting millions of years as hours in a single day. Brightly colored hours were allocated to the _Triassic_, _Jurassic_ and _Cretacious_.

The memories flooded back. Jack's first toy he'd ever had from a museum was a little lead-cast Triceratops. From then on, he became fascinated with dinosaurs as a kid, as all children do, because they were bigger than anything else that had ever graced the earth. They became the things mythology was made of, the things that made mythology so fascinating.

Only they were _real_. They _weren't_ mythology. They had the pull, the seduction of mythology. But their roots were planted firmly in reality.

The school group's female teacher read from a sign at the entrance to the Cretacious Hall.

"The Cretacious period started about 144 million years ago and lasted for 79 million years. Most of the dinosaurs that we know of today were alive during this time. Mammals began to evolve, while new species of fish and insects also developed."

A girl yawned. A boy was playing with a Brontosaurus and T-rex. This was a tough audience. If you didn't kill them fast, they killed _you_.

"The Velociraptor had large slashing claws on it's feet that could slice down through the flesh of it's victim like a sickle through tall grass, making it one of the most dangerous dinosaurs of it's time. It was only six feet long, which means it was likely very fast and maneuverable."

The teacher led them through most of the mid to late-Cretacious herbivore specimens - _Ankylosaur_, _Iguanodon_, _Triceratops_, finally coming to the carnivores.

The kids were rounded up and stood before a stone platform, greeted by a toothy _Tyrannosaur_ skeleton.

Their teacher read from the detailed plaque. "Like other tyrannosaurids, the T-Rex was a bipedal carnivore with a massive skull balanced by a long, heavy tail. Relative to the large and powerful hindlimbs, the T-Rex's forelimbs were small, though unusually powerful for their size, and bore two clawed digits. Although other theropod dinosaurs rivaled or exceeded the T-Rex in size, it was the largest known tyrannosaurid and one of the largest known land predators."

Now things were getting interesting. The kids rocked back on their heels and tilted their heads up, staring right through the opened jaws of the mounted _Tyrannosaur_.

"But there's alot more to dinosaurs than what's on that plaque, m'am." Jack spoke up from the back of the room.

He stepped forward, entering his element.

"You see guys, in the Late Cretacious era, dinosaurs ruled the earth. But they didn't exactly rule, more like they ran around and ate each other for breakfast, lunch, dinner, dessert and midnight snack."

The kids giggled.

"There's a recent theory that tyrannosaurs were actually scavengers; carrion eaters, rather than predators."

"I still wouldn't want to meet one in a dark alley," their teacher mused.

"A few years ago they said dinosaurs were cold-blooded and stupid," Jack continued, warming up. "They said they just walked off and left their eggs. Now they've got it the other way around. But no one really knows for sure."

"Could that dinosaur eat me up?" asked a little boy.

"He could if he were alive and if he was _hungry_," answered his teacher.

"Is that a _real_ dinosaur?" asked another boy.

"Well, he was a real dinosaur _once,_" the teacher verified.

"I think I saw it move..." answered a skiddish boy with glasses.

"Yes, you see it's the lighting on the skeleton," the teacher answered. "It's very realistic."

"Is that true, Mister?" a kid asked.

Jack grinned. It was quite obvious that the arena was now completely his.

"Well, it's hard to say, guys. You see, these dinosaurs can actually _move_. But if they did, they would have to pay rent. Dioramas aren't cheap, mainly because of the view, so if the dinosaurs moved, the museum would have to charge them for living here. So they stay like this. However, when I'm visiting the museum and I know that these things can move, and certainly if you'll notice the teeth-"

Jack indicated the banana-sized pointed teeth.

"These teeth are for _tearing flesh_."

The kids became noticably intimidated. But Jack was just warming up.

"And I must say that they love to tear _noisy_ flesh."

The gathering fell completely silent.

Big finish..

"And they love a _chase_."

The kids stood stone still, as if their feet were bolted to the floor.

"Now, what I do if I want to see it move, is I will turn my back to the dinosaurs like so. And I will say out loud, faking them out, "Well, I guess I'll go to the next exhibit now". And when I do that, in the corner of my eye, I know that this dinosaur is going to move. And so, I turn...and as soon as I know it's moving, I take these eyes and I...swing em' back!"

The kids all screamed and laughed at once.

"Well, I must say you have a certain way with kids, Mr-."

"Turner, Jack Turner."

"The paleontologist, of course. I've heard alot about you."

"Well, whatever you've heard, subtract it by 15 and divide it by 12. Whatever's left, don't pay any attention to. Well, if you'll excuse me, I need to get to my work now."

With that, the teacher gathered up her now-wound-up group and lead them on to the other exhibits.

With that, Jack left for the archives warehouse. But not before taking a fleeting glance back at the opened jaws of the mounted T-Rex.

The most dominant species of all time.

Even their naked bones dwarfed all.

It was easy to forget that these were once living, breathing creatures, surviving in a world of unimaginable violence.

As a child, Jack's favorite place in the whole world, was this place. He knew all their names: _Brachiosaurus_, _Stegosaurus_, _Triceratops_, _Velociraptor_ and especially _Tyrannosaurus Rex_. He'd stare up at them for hours, trying to imagine what they'd be like when they were alive.

If he looked long enough and hard enough, he could imagine what used to be; shadows of something so powerful that even a hundred million years of dust and sand couldn't wipe it out.

* * *

It was now early evening and Jack had just finished his cataloguing of specimens for the museum for the day. He was sitting in the museum coffee shop, having a cup of it's bland coffee and eating a rubbery hamburger.

A man of intermediate age, possibly early thirties, approached and walked up to where Jack was sitting. His hair was a ratty fringe of no particular color, and he wore a rumpled flannel shirt about half a size too small.

"Lance Devlin, maybe you've heard of me?"

Jack's face drew a blank.

"Maybe not...Well Jack, I am a great admirer of yours, and I have an extremely interesting proposition to discuss."

"Trust me, this will be right up your alley."

Jack had found a booth within the museum coffee shop, isolated from the other patrons. Devlin walked over carrying a cup of coffee and seated himself.

"First off let me say that, as a dinosaur enthusiast, I have admired your work for awhile now. It is truly, what's the word? Inspiring."

"We do what we can out there," said Jack, taking a sip of his coffee. He really didn't know what to expect from this stranger who claimed he was a wildlife documentarian. He sold himself more as a combination of a dodgy car salesman and a sleazy Hollywood Agent. But, of course, Jack couldn't be sure.

"You graduated top of your class," Devlin continued. "Quite an accomplishment. And you're not very well known, despite your obvious talents."

"Notoriety doesn't mean all that much to me. I just enjoy what I do."

"That's great," Devlin said with mock sincerity. "Anyway, Jack - may I call you Jack?"

Devlin leaned forward, lowering his voice.

"I'm arranging for a private ship to take us to _The Five Deaths,_ the archepelago some few thousand miles off the coast of Costa Rica. The very same island chain where the...'research'...done by the InGen corporation has been rumoured to have taken place. I'm taking a ship and crew to those islands with the full intention of making a full-length documentary feature film about the lives and behavior of some of the most legendary and powerful animals that have ever walked this earth."

Jack was flabbergasted. "Wait, wait, back up, you're telling me that you're preparing an expedition to...'_Dinosaur Island'_?"

"Isla Muerte, to be precise. A new island. And I want _you_ to be our guide."

Jack's look to Devlin as if he'd just offered him an amazing (and impossble) gift.

"That's a very nice offer, Mr. Devlin, but...I'm sure there are people more highly qualified..." Jack admitted doubtfully.

"Jack, trust me, it's people like _you_ who are going to shape the field of paleontology as we know it today." Devlin assured. "We need you at the helm to spearhead this expedition."

"No, no, I just deal with social habits and family group theories. I'm not quite sure how helpful I can be."

"As a plaeontologist, you know these things inside and out. You could name them in your _sleep_. Believe me, I'm someone you can trust, Jack. I'm in show business. Believe me, I'm on the level, no nonesense."

"I'm sure you are, but that's not the point. No-one really knows exactly _what _is on that island. What we, the public, know of the operations on that island is just media conspiricy and speculation. You'd have a better chance at finding Area 51 there, let alone another Sorna. And with the restrictions they've imposed after everything that's happened, as a starter, you couldn't sail close enough to do anything of any real interest."

"You see, that's just the thing. We, me and my crew that is, have special permission to set foot on that island."

"I find that very hard to believe." Jack admitted.

"Through my numerous, successful wildlife documentaries, I've made some friends in virtually every country. In this case, the government of Costa Rica."

"But not InGen," Jack added.

"Semantics. Costa Rica _owns_ that province. My point is, Jack, that any chance is better than no chance at all. Behavior in their natural habitat, Jack. The impossible dream of any paleontologist. It would be the most extraordinary living fossil record the world has ever seen."

Devlin was losing Jack. He could tell. He had to sweeten the deal.

"My sole interest is making a phenominal film. Pure and simple. One that honors the existence of those magnificent creatures. One that is honorable, one that can get people at home to say "Wow! That's the first time I've ever seen a dinosaur!". Not _Gorgo_, not _Godzilla_. Something _real_. A film that is really happening, even as you watch it."

Jack sat back in his chair, trying to disguise his eagerness.

"Jack, you don't know how important it is for us to have you come along. It would make all the difference. And of course, I'm prepared to make a sizeable contribution to your current research."

This time, Devlin caught the tiniest eager flare in Jack's eyes. He'd accept. There was no doubt about it.

"I don't want to rush you - but we are under some time pressure here, so think it over hard, Jack. I'm offering you money, adventure, prestige...the thrill of a lifetime and a scientific expedition. What could be better than that?"

Jack fell quiet, searching.

This proposition afforded a grand opportunity.

To find out how these animals were as living creatures - the sheer power of their limbs - the rough texture of their skin - the grace of their movements. How they sounded, how they hunted, even how they ate.

This was his chance to see the real thing. Not movie monsters, but the animals themselves as they were eons ago. Immense and beautiful beings, once lords of the Earth.

He knew he would be a damned fool to refuse such an opportunity.

A childhood dream.

For better or worse, he was standing on the brink of a life-changing moment.

_Kenya, Africa_

Charles "Chuck" Monroe was a big man, fifty years old with a chiseled face and blue eyes. Born in Australia, but raised in Kenya, he had spent most of his life as a guide for American big-game hunters, as had his father before him. But most recently, he had been working principally for tourists as a safari guide.

Monroe sat at a table in the middle of an African cafe/bar in Mombassa. It was mid-day and the place was half- full, mostly with locals. Monroe was there, eating his lunch and having a beer, sunglasses hanging low on his nose.

Monroe looked up and saw a man get out of a taxi.

Colin - Devlin's assistant, wearing a large straw hat and looking almost _too_ much like an American tourist. Colin clutched an attaché case close to him and scanned the cafe furtively, spotting the man with a rugged, mysterious look that Devlin had described.

Colin caustiously approached the man.

"Charles Monroe?" he asked nervously.

"On a good day," the man uttered in a thick Australian accent.

"Sir, I have a proposition for you that you might find very interesting."


	6. Chapter 5: The Field Trip Begins

**Chapter 5: The Field Trip Begins**

_San Jose', Costa Rica_

The crowded docks, a clutter of ships and shanty towns with its weatherbeaten buildings, and odd assortment of livestock running free -- a donkey, goats, chickens, etc. A cab drove onto the docks. Devlin hopped out. He was well-dressed for the trip, in a shabby sort of way. Jack emerged carrying only a single, battered suitcase. On the other side of the car came Jimmy, Jack's assistant and apprentice paleontologist - 18, bright-eyed, ready for anything.

Jack stared at a large ocean liner that rose above them.

"Is this the ship?" he asked Devlin.

"Not exactly..." he answered. "It's actually this one over here."

Devlin strode towards a rusty battered fishing trawler on the other side of the wharf. This was "_La Empresa_".

"I know what you're thinkin'," he said. "But it looks...much better up close."

Devlin looked down at Jack's one suitcase. "You only brought that one suitcase?" he asked.

"Everything I own is in this briefcase," Jack suggested. "Everything_ important_ that is."

Jimmy himself only brought a few vague essentials. That is, essentials for a paleontologist. "Listen Jack, I really appreciate you bringing me along." Jimmy thanked.

"Are you kidding me?" said Jack. "I wouldn't deny my favorite assistant a great opportunity, especially an opportunity like_ this_."

Jimmy smiled.

"Haul away..." shouted a man in Spanish.

Rough-looking Spanish sailors were working hard to get the boat under way. Hurried activity everywhere, crates being loaded, equipment being cleaned and maintained. Devlin crossed and talked to Mark and Lenny, part of his film crew, who stood next to some state-of-the-art filming gear.

"Is this all of the equipment? This is all of it? We're taking the Canon and Sony? Good. You got all the lenses - you got the two and the six? Get it on board, fellas. Come on."

Devlin called across to a figure who was supervising the loading of the ship.

"Aguado! Cast off! Trim the sails - raise the anchor - start the engine, whatever the hell it is you do."

Aguado was a short and stout Costa Rican man. He had greying hair, with several streaks of black in his salt-and-pepper mustache.

"Nothin' doin'," said Aguado. "We're still waiting on the manifesto."

"What? Who? English - please!" Devlin exclaimed.

"Paperwork, Mr. Devlin." the Costa Rican answered.

Devlin was growing impatient. "Weather reports say there's a significant stormfront coming in toward the island chain and I want to beat it there. I'll give you another thousand to leave right now."

"You haven't given me the_ first_ thousand yet."

Devlin glanced at Jack, frustrated and embarrassed.

"Can't we discuss this later?"

As Devlin querelled with Aguado, Jack spotted a tall man, early fifties, clad in reptile leathers and with the diamond hard look of a cobra. This guy was a man's man - Australian outback - African savannah, he was _that_ guy. We was helping to load a crate of what looked like weapons up onto the deck.

After taking a break from arguing, Devlin led Jack toward the man.

"This is Charles Monroe..." Devlin introduced. "...great African big game hunter. And he's going with us. He'll be coming along as our protector."

"Protector?" Jack asked, a bit confused.

"Well, if Mr. Devlin here is to be believed, some of the animals we'll be encountering won't be as...'friendly'...as _we_ are."

Jack extended his hand, as did Monroe.

Even without looking at the man's outward appearance, Jack could immediately tell that Monroe was a guy's guy. His handshake was strong. He let Jack know exactly where he stood in the whole scheme of things. Just a handshake. He didn't have to say much.

"So are you ready for this expedition, Mr. Turner?

"Sure..." Jack answered dumbly. What could he say? That a childhood dream of his was about to come true? To _this_ guy?

"Nervous?" he questioned.

"Nervous - no. Why? Should I be?" Jack asked.

"It isn't every man who would take such a risk."

Jack was slightly taken aback by the ambiguity of the man's statement.

"Why don't I show Mr. Turner to his cabin?" Colin suggested.

"Wonderful idea, thank you, Colin." Devlin said.

"Jack, if you'd just - Hi, I'm Colin, Lance's assistant."

Devlin turned back to the stubborn Costa Rican captain, pulling his check book from his jacket pocket.

"Two thousand - it's a deal...Will you take a check?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"No," Devlin said in a smart-alecy tone.

"Two-thousand it is." declared Aguado dryly.

"Alright, c'mon guys!" Devlin shouted. "Let's get this field trip on the road!"

Colin began to lead Jack away. Jimmy was struggling behind, marveling at the ship and the coming expedition in general. _"This is gonna be some field trip,"_ he thought.

As Jack made his way to the boat ramp, he noticed a pretty face among the crew. She was about Jack's age, dressed in a set of tight-fitting kaki fatigues, with a pair of sunglasses perched on the end of her button nose, and she had her long blonde hair pulled back into a loose ponytail. His first thought was that she looked like a sexy jungle librarian. He cursed himself for it afterwards.

She was jotting something down in a large notebook she was toting with her. Without looking, she bumped into a crate which sent her notebook flying to the ground.

Reflexively, Jack bent down to pick it up, dropping his suitcase. As he went down, his hand met hers.

"Oh, well hello!" she said in a sweet voice.

"Hi," Jack said sheepishly. "You seemed to have dropped this."

"Yeah," she laughed. "I'm such a clutz."

Jack laughed.

"I've seen worse at the digsite, believe me."

"Oh, that's right! You're Jack Turner. Carrie Connelly. I'm a reporter for _National Geographic_."

She reached out her hand and gave him a very warm greeting. Maybe a little _too_ warm. Her firm handshake let him know that she was a self-assured, profesional who had risen to the top of her speciality. But her smile suggested that, under the right circumstances, she could be one nimble little minx.

"Carrie Connelly. I'm very familiar with your work. You have a great eye. I read your work on the Nzinu tribe in West Africa. I liked it, I liked it alot. You have a talent for capturing the human condition. You printed one of our articles last year. Remember?"

"Yes, of course I remember! It's certainly gained momentum in the scientific community."

"Thank God for that. If it and other's like it hadn't, then all the work put into making dinosaurs seem more birdlike would have been wasted." Jack explained.

"The emergence of the Velociraptor as a cold and calculating hunter, capable of coordinating group attacks with surprising efficiency, has frightened more than a few people in the community." Carrie varified.

"Oh well that credit goes to Dr. Alan Grant, not me. But I tend agree with you."

"Oh yes, you studied under him, am I right?"

"Yes. He was very encouraging to me. He was my inspiration."

"I think that's so sweet." Carrie commented.

Jack smiled.

Devlin came over to the two. Perfect timing.

"Oh, good! You two have met! Well, you'll be working very closely together on this project."

Jack smiled again. This was good news. Devlin went back to supervise the loading of the equipment and in general to bark orders.

Jack and Carrie gathered their things and made their way to the ramp.

"So," Jack began. "...has your background always been wildlife?"

"Yeah. Wildlife, and a bit of combat. I was in the Congo, Corto Maltese, all over Croatia. Did some volunteer work for Rwanda once in a while."

"That's incredible."

"Yeah well, incredible was last year, honey. This year is much different. In any case, I'm used to field work by now. Flora, fauna, the whole she-bang."

"Me too," Jack answered. "Although my kind of field work takes place in a closed environment with a bunch of screaming kids running around pretending to be prehistoric reptiles. That counts as fauna in my book."

Carrie laughed.

The two followed Colin and the others up the gangway.

Beefy sailors continued to load crates and equipment onto the deck.

Carrie lifted her sunglasses so she could take a good long look at Jack. Her eyes traveled slowly from his hiking boots up to his dirty blond hair, scrutinizing every inch of him, sizing him up.

As Jack moved further away, Jimmy walked up and introduced himself to Carrie.

"So, your friend over there," she began. "What's he like? I mean in real life?"

"I've spent a lot of time with him over this last year at the excavation site. And it was a wild ride. He's unpredictable, a dreamer." Jimmy answered.

And it was the right answer.

Jack made his way below to the cabins.

"Jack! Come on in! Let me introduce you to the crew! This is Lenny - our cameraman..." he pointed to a heavy-set man in glasses.

Jack reached out to shake Lenny's hand.

"And this is Mark, our sound guy." he pointed to a wiry man in his early thirties.

As the crew got underway, _La Empresa_ began to pull away from the docks.

It floated away from the port, passing the other ships as it steered for open sea.

After getting himself settled, as well as Jimmy, Jack emerged from the ship interior and walked to the rail of the ship. Carrie stepped up behind Jack.

"So how does it feel?" she asked.

"What do you mean?" he questioned.

"You've been around bones all this time. What do you think it will be like seeing the real thing?"

"Well, paleontology certainly can't even begin to offer the answers _we're_ about to uncover. Novelists and artists who dreamed a vision of the Mezozoic era could only attempt these questions with their imaginations. We scientists have only bones. Not as entertaining as fiction, but absolutely fact without prejudice."

"You can talk," Carrie said suddenly, without thinking. "I don't know how to say it. You're just articulate. You say everything that I think, that I feel. It's exciting. It's exciting that you can actually see the _real_ thing. You know that, I find it terrifying..and exciting at the same time."

"I know, it's really exciting." Jack concurred.

"And scary."

"And scary."

"When people try to discover things that others wouldn't dare - -"

"It's an adventure."

"An adventure."

They both stood at the rail, watching the port of San Jose' shrink into the distance.

_La Empresa _made for open water, and then - the ocean, away from land, away from safety, throwing caution to the winds, towards it's much-conceiled destination.

The expedition had begun.


	7. Chapter 6: Isla Muerte

_**Chapter 6: **__**Isla **__**Muerte - **__**66 **__**miles **__**southeast **__**of **__**Sorna**_

_Jack opened his eyes._

_And gazed into..._

_...an alien world._

_The air is a suffocating brew of nitrogen, carbon dioxide and methane._

_Titanic shapes lumber in the distance...a herd of giants outlined against a blood-red sky._

_Suddenly, the red sky turns black. _

_Then, out of the blackness, a gigantic ball of fire hurls to the earth._

_Night becomes day..._

_The sky explodes. _

_Trees split in two and begin to burn. The soil becomes molten, first glowing red and then white hot. Sand turns to mud as if as lava._

_Rivers and streams boil and gush like open wounds._

_The great giants ignite like match heads. The blast wave hits...consuming the bellowing giants. Their screams merge with the howl of the wind as the shockwave rips into them, blasting them apart._

_The Great Death Comet has come. _

_Within it's flames, an entire civilization will be removed from existence._

_Some will die by the fire, the rest from cold and starvation, as a thick black cloud covers the Earth. _

_No escape._

_Every single one of them - from the tree-tall brachiosaurs, Triceratops and Velociraptor, to the tyrannosaurus-will be gone forever._

_Agony drowns out the howls of the dying titans. _

_Steaming waters cover them over and their bones sink deep into the mud..._

* * *

Jack awoke, trying to escape from a nightmare. He breathed deep.

Bathed in sweat, Jack sat up in his bunk. He went to the sink in his quarters and splashed himself with water. It had been three days since they'd left Costa Rica and the time would soon be upon them to reach the island.

But Jack was beginning to wonder if they'd ever get there at all.

Suddenly, a wave crashed against Jack's window. He spun around, startled.

Jack hurried up above-deck. Sailors and crew members were preparing for something, securing supplies, food, provisions. Jack looked into the sky. The clouds above were almost black with an approaching tropical storm. Thunder rumbled as the storm overhead finally broke loose. There was a lightning flash, with an ear-shattering thunderclap right on its heels.

The first raindrops fell on the already busy deck.

It was going to be one hell of a storm.

At the edge of the prow, Devlin stared at the eerie silhouette of an island, visible through the thinning fog. Jagged peaks rose from a rocky shoreline.

Isla Muerte.

It was a medium-sized island, completely ringed by thick clouds that gave it a lush, mysterious appearance.

The ship was tossed back and forth. A huge rock face loomed out of the storm straight ahead. _La Empresa_ sailed directly towards the huge rock formation which rose up two-hundred feet into the air. The ship was dwarfed by the monstrous structure. Aguado stared out at the intimidating island, unable to believe his eyes. He started spinning the wheel hard to starboard.

"Stop the engine!" he shouted in Spanish.

Devlin was drawn to the forward railing of the ship, still looking out at the landforms jutting from the ocean, towering over them in awe.

_La Empresa_ slowed, but its weight was still carrying it forward...

Carrie rushed out of a door, on to the deck, alarmed at the panic on the ship.

The volatile sea sent _La Empresa_ into a slow spin. As the ship sank in the trough of a wave, more rocks emerged from the water around it. Devlin ignored the situation, still looking on in utter awe at the island. Jack, however, was not yet so enthused. He looked on in shock as a jagged rock loomed out of the fog off the starboard bow.

"Rocks!" he shouted.

Aguado rushed out of the wheelhouse onto the deck and looked with horror as he realised his ship was trapped amid a labyrinth of rocks. _La Empresa_ lolled without power in the heavy swell.

Aguado rushed back into the wheelhouse.

"Alright, fire her up!" he shouted.

The heavy throb of the engine regained strength. The reverse-propellers pulled the ship away, but still without adequate control. Carrie hurried down the stairs. She clutched the railing for support and reeled off balance, literally falling into Jack's arms as the side of _La Empresa_ crunched against rock. She began to ride the swell towards the island.

Jack looked down at Carrie - he still had hold of her. He had just realized he hadn't noticed how green her eyes were without her glasses.

Green was his favorite color.

Lapsing back into reality, he released her and she straightened herself.

"Are you ok?" he asked, trying to save face.

"Yeah, fine." she replied, attempting the same thing.

They both shared a glance at the approaching island, looks of total disbelief on their faces.

The storm battered and crashed the ship all around them.

As each wave hit _La Empresa_, it groaned and scraped against the rocks, shifting slightly. Devlin lost his footing as the ship lurched violently. He landed on the floor. Aguado desperately tried to control the wheel. _La Empresa_ was at the mercy of the raging seas as it moved even closer to the reef.

The ship plowed between the huge rocks off toward the island. The rain fell in drenching sheets on the deck and wheelhouse.

Devlin began surreptitiously supervising Lenny and Mark as they hastily loaded camera equipment on board one of the life boats. Mark packed away his headphones and sound recording equipment.

"I'm gonna have the rain all over the dialogue - sea gulls, camera noise, wind and God knows what else!"

"I don't care, Mark! You're the sound recordist - make it work!"

Jack spotted Jimmy running about, gathering up a few of his things.

He caught the boy by his shoulder. "Jimmy, what the hell is going on?"

"Devlin's planning to go ashore." Jimmy said.

Jack was speechless.

"He's not going out in _this,_" Jack uttered in disbelief. "Is he crazy??"

Jimmy continued. "Aguado says the storm's not gonna get any better anytime soon and if we can't find anchorage _now_, we might not at all."

This was insane. The man was willing to brave near-hurricane winds to film a documentary...

...a documentary that could change both the worlds of paleontology, and zoology for that matter, for good.

Maybe it wasn't so insane after all. Atleast from a scientific point of view.

To a normal way of thinking it was damned.

"Jack, c'mon!" Jimmy yelled. "It's now or never!"

This was pathetic. He was being urged on by his own _assistant_.

Acting on instinct, or perhaps pure scientific madness, Jack jumped into a boat.

The ship creaked under the strain of the intense storm. Monroe, who'd been scarce until now, came onto the deck and joined the boarding party, a few weapons in his possession.

The two boats were swung out and lowered into the churning water.

Aguado continued fighting for control of his ship as the last of the boats were lowered into the water.

Realizing what was taking place, Aguado bolted out of the wheelhouse and onto the railing. "Devlin, you lunatic!" Aguado shouted over the storm. "You can't go ashore in these conditions! Those are twenty-foot waves out there!"

"Are you crazy Aguado!? This is it! This is Isla Muerte! I didn't come 4,000 miles on this stinkin' boat just to pack up and call it quits! I'm getting on that island if it _kills_ me!" Devlin declared, a desperate tinch to his voice.

The man must have been suicidal.

"You just might get your wish, eh!" Aguado warned futily.

"Alright people, hang on." Monroe warned. "This might get a little rough."

The two boats made their way away from the ship, packed with crew members. In one boat was Jimmy and a few other crew members. In the other was Jack, Carrie, Devlin, Mark and Lenny - clutching camera equipment.

Aguado looked down at the boats as they made their way into the swell. "Este imbécil se morirá," He mumbled under his breath.

Monroe took command of their boat.

Lenny held the camera as Lance recorded. The boats floated away from the ship towards the shore of the island.

Colin was sitting amid a pile of video cameras and other photographic equipment.

Devlin was intoxicated with excitement. "Ok, I got the camera, I got my crew. Jack, stay with me. I may need you for reference."

"Colin!" he yelled to the boat across from them. "You got the film and the lenses?"

"As much as I can carry!" Colin shouted.

"Good. Don't lose um'! Ok, alright!"

Lance zealously filmed the island as they approached it. He turned to Carrie, who seemed very unsure of their current situation.

"How ya feelin' Carrie? Whadya say? Let's make a movie!"

"Let's just try landing this boat first, shall we?" she suggested dryly.

"Devlin, I've got a bad feeling about this." Monroe warned. "I think Ms. Connelly should have stayed on the ship."

But Monroe's words fell on deaf ears. Lance was already back in his own world.

Finally, after so many flukes, this was his chance to accomplish something of _real_ value.

This would make his career.

"Look at this place Jack!" Lance exclaimed. "Can you believe it?! It's perfect!"

Jack had to agree with him. It was impossible not to. The island was such a presence in and of itself. A unique character in a riveting story.

It was a place where you'd want to see a dinosaur.

The intensity of the storm increased. The sky was pierced with lightning bolts.

The tiny boats were tossed about in the raging seas. Sailors tried to steer them towards the shore, as they bounced off rocks.

"This is too dangerous." Monroe demanded. "We're turning back!"

But Lance wasn't giving up.

"Over my dead body!" he shouted. "We're almost there! Come on, we can make it!"

Jack looked back at_ La Empresa_ as she disappeared completely into the darkness behind them.

The boats moved towards the island passing great rock formations jutting out of the water. The huge cliffs rose out of the waves and disappeared inland.

Devlin was balanced at the front of the boat, filming as the crew made their way ashore.

Jack looked up at the island, in all it's dark, wonderous glory and magnificence.

Another world. A world trapped in the darkest recesses of time. Such a place that only so few of Gods primates had ever witnessed.

And that perhaps even fewer survived.

Their boat ran toward a tiny, stony beach. Sheer cliffs rose straight up from the shore.

Suddenly, Devlin's boat was lifted up, as if struck by something, and then dropped back down.

Carrie, as if compelled, turned and looked over the side of the boat, into the sea. Her breathe caught in her throat:

Beneath the dark water, a gigantic, hideous reptillian face gaped up at her...

Then, suddenly, it was gone.

Carrie sat huddled to one side of the boat, drawing her rain-slicker closer around her. Carrie's fingers reflexively edged across the seat and curled over Jack's hand.

They approached another rock formation.

Wind whistled through the gaping holes in the edifice, a creepy moaning sound that mixed with the deep boom of the crashing waves.

Jack glanced over at Monroe, staring down in terror at something below the water. Following beyond his gaze, Jack then found that their boat was only moments away from crashing into a large reef.

Sticking out of the water, the imposing reef was being battered by waves.

The passengers looked on in horror as the boat smashed into the reef, splintering into a dozen pieces.

Jack lost consciousness and blackness overtook him.

Raging waters covered him over and he sank into the surf...


	8. Chapter 7: Leviathan

**_Chapter 7: Leviathan_**

Jack was barely conscious.

Delirious images and sounds floated all around him...

A bright light suddenly flared...Jack squeezed his eyes shut, gasping.

A familiar voice cut through the swirl of sounds.

Jack's eyes slowly began to open. He was lying on the ground next to a beach shore, dappled sunlight played on rich bronze sand, the sound of a nearby tide drifted through the vista of the island. Jack's eyes opened, looking around slowly, his eyes alight on Carrie, kneeling over him.

"Jack!" she exclaimed, delighted. "You gave us a scare."

"Carrie!" he said in weak relief. "Are you hurt? What happened?"

"We crashed against the rocks. One of the crew members was killed instantly. We put his body over there." She pointed to an object near their now-cannibalized boat. After a second, Jack stood up, still a bit disoriented. He took in his surroundings.

The beach was a stunning crescent of rust-colored sand at the mountainous fringe, utterly deserted. The milky light of dawn had begun to wash over the island.

They'd landed only a few meters from the rocky beach. Storm clouds still hung like a mist over the island.

Looking further out, he could make out Monroe, loading a flare gun; Lance, who was gathering his video equipment and a few other crew members and sailors from the other boats.

Unrecognizable clumps of debris from the boat lay scattered about. Walking over and looking down, Jack saw the man's body. His eyes were half-open. Still. His face peaceful. A small sand crab approached the body and was shooed away. Another crew member came over, closed the man's eyes and covered him up with a sheet.

"My God...we can't just leave him here." Jack insisted.

"I know. Monroe is trying to contact Aguado." she said.

Monroe stood perched on a rock. He held a flare gun in the air and fired a flare thirty feet into the air, bathing the surrounding tide in a deep crimson. _La Empresa_ was still docked about two-and-a-half miles offshore, but was still being buffeted by heavy waves.

"The sea's still too rough. We've just gotta hope he saw us. If he did, he'll come looking for us with the seaplane."

Lance turned around to look at the vast island surrounding them.

He'd made it. He'd really made it.

"I can't believe it!" he shouted in excitement. "This is it! Isla Muerte. What a place to shoot a documentary! This film's gonna make so much money!" He hoisted the tripod video camera he'd brought with him and prepared himself for what he thought was going be one hell of a nature walk.

"We'll make for the high ground, get our bearings." Monroe announced.

The body of the dead man was secured in what remained of the boat.

Monroe took the lead, carrying a simple hunting rifle as protection. He loaded the gun with a few rounds, just to be safe. In a sheath on his belt, he wore a large bowie knife and in another, a machete.

Lance and the crew gathered their documentarial equipment; cameras, sound equipment, and notes given by Jack on numerous prehistoric species for reference.

They started off on the rocky coast with a few paths leading off in different directions. Some didn't appear to lead anywhere. For now, they went straight past the broken set of stairs until they reached a rock wall. Here, they went up the stairs to your right.

"Let's just get this over with. You've already got one person killed, Devlin." Monroe said, contemptively.

"Where's the other boat? Where's Jimmy and the others?" Jack asked Monroe.

"The other boat never made it ashore."

Jack sunk for a moment, a worried look on his face.

"Come on Jack, don't go jumpin' to conclusions now." Monroe warned.

Monroe led Devlin, Lenny, Colin, Jack, Carrie, and Mark, the two sailors and what was left of the crew that made it ashore up a dark, vaulted tunnel within a looming rock face just off the beach.

It was not a way they would have chosen, had they known what lay ahead; for all of them failed to notice the two-toed, two-clawed footprints, speckled across the beach.

It wouldn't have mattered anyway. The rising tide soon swept away all traces.

Monroe led the group up away from the beach, seeking higher ground. "Come on. We have to make it to that cliff."

Hector, a 40ish, filthy-looking sailor, took up the rear. He made his way ahead, behind Monroe.

"We must get away from the coast, senior. I've heard stories about this island. Of ships, fishing boats who ventured too close...and then never returned. The island is rumored to be guarded by a fearsome beast..."

"Is that a fact? What _kind_?" Monroe asked, skeptically.

"They called it..._"Serpiente_ _de Muerte"_..." A chill ran through the small handful of Spanish sailors. "A creature, vile, ferocious. Thirsty for blood, she lurks in the darkness, hoping to fill her belly. Her eyes...as dark as Hell itself."

"Enough, you superstitious goats. Myths and legends, that's all it is." he dismissed.

"What is he talking about?" Carrie asked.

"Oh, just crazy sailor's talk, Ms. Connelly. When you're at sea for days on end, even weeks like these blokes are, you tend to think these kinds of things up. They just pass them on from generation to generation. Superstition. That's all it is."

Carrie turned away, mildly at ease.

After a half and hour and a mile of hiking, the group stopped near an outcrop at the base of a sheer cliff, still near the dark, lapping waves to rest. Lance stopped for a moment, examining the area; this section of the coast was open, wide, a good place to start filming.

"Carrie, come with me." he said. "I wanna shoot some test interviews."

"Now? You want to start filming now?" asked Carrie.

"Sure, why not? That's why we're here!" he assured. "And Jack, you're next."

"What do you want me to say?" Carrie asked.

"Anything you want!" he said. "Ready? And...action."

"Hello. My name is Carrie Connelly and we have just arrived on the infamous Isla Muerte, rumored to be yet another site of extensive genetic research and experimentation by the InGen corporation. Isla Muerte is just one of three islands known to host genetic production/egineering. We landed on the island just hours ago, but as of yet have not had any encounters with the islands rumored inhabitants, but-"

Just then, a deafening, blood-curdling roar erupted from deep within the jungles of the island beyond. All present were forced to cover their ears, and the reverberations alone seemed to shake the island to it's very foundations.

"What was _that_??" Carrie asked, startled.

"I have no idea." Lance said, attempting to disguise his awe.

"iQuej lo manden el diablo!" screamed a terrified sailor.

Lance shook it off and regained himself. "Let's try and stay focused here. Lets use that curiosity, Carrie. Let's go for another take."

Suddenly, through the water, a dark shape appeared, moving towards the sailor. The dark, sinuous thing dove beneath the dark water, making a loud crunch. The sailor disappeared from sight, uttering a pathetic scream.

They all looked out into the water, searching for any signs of a threat. Monroe leveled his rifle at the waves.

But there was nothing there...

Just the sound of the lapping waves.

Monroe lowered his weapon and they all recoiled in relief.

And then, from the dark waters around them, like an bullet fired from below the sea, shot an enormous roaring beast.

"Serpiente de Muerte!" Hector exclaimed, as a gigantic serpentine neck rose out of the inky waters before them, thirty feet above their heads. It's huge jaws looked as if they could easily bite a man in two, and they were lined with rows of stake-like teeth that were set layer-upon-layer, like a shark's. It's emerald eyes glared angrily down at the humans. It hissed at them, sending out a foul wind that smelled of dead fish. It threw it's head back and shrieked.

"It's the thing I saw beneath the water." Carrie revealed in shock.

"The thing that _attacked_ us." Monroe added.

"Is this the so-called ''Guardian of Isla Muerte''?" asked Jack, half-curious.

The beast hissed and drooled. Finally, it lashed out at them.

Monroe moved forward to face the monster, his gun cocked and ready.

Jack was unarmed. He could do nothing to help. All he could do was pull Carrie away from the danger, hauling her behind a rock.

Lance was right in the middle. Defenseless, all he could do was film.

Suddenly, the dagger-like teeth opened wide, and clamped down on Hector, perilously close to the water. The sailor cried out in agony. The others passengers grabbed onto his legs, trying to pull him back. But it was no use. The reptile ripped Hector out of their grasp and into the air, quickly devouring the screaming sailor. It was a horrifying sight, but no one could turn away. Jack turned Carrie's head away, not wanting her to see the carnage. Hector's howl of pain was choked off as his body was clamped between the grinding, gnashing teeth. Blood gushed onto the ground. The remnants of his body tumbled from the reptile's mouth.

Pleased with the appetizer, the creature came back for the main course.

Monroe fired a few rounds into the creature's flank, with no apparent ill effect.

The reptillian head slithered along the ground on its snakelike neck. Monroe stood reloading as the giant open mouth screamed down at him. At the very last second, he jumped out of the way.

Lightning fast, it snapped at Monroe, smashing his rifle to pieces in one snatch.

Thinking quickly, Monroe withdrew the long machete from the sheath on his belt.

The creature paused as Monroe hesitated.

It's gaze was terrifying.

It dove in toward Monroe again. Just as the monster was mere feet away from the man, Monroe jabbed his machete directly into one of it's eyes. Blood flowed from the eye wound and oozed out. The creature roared and recoiled for a moment. Laying limply on the water in what looked like a red oil slick, it seemed as though the beast might be down. But then it squirmed its huge body, which was at least the size of of a large fishing boat, and straightened itself high in the air.

The beast was now even more enraged. Sparks glittered around in its evil emerald eyes.

Monroe wheeled, machete in hand, and fended off the slashing reptile like St. George and the dragon. In a mad rush, he pitched himself at the beast, slashing wildly. The reptile rose and, fangs bared...struck.

Marshalling every ounce of his strength, Monroe thrust the machete upward, deep into the roof of the reptile's mouth. It hissed in pain, thrashing madly as a fang drove into Monroe's arm. He clutched his arm in pain, stumbled back and fell to the ground, watching as the reptile thrashed. The beast convulsed grotesquely, then collapsed, deflating like a beached whale. Jack and Carrie staggered together and hugged each other fervently.

"Great! Fantastic!" Lance shouted, looking through the camera in sheer delight.

Monroe peered down, saw the fang that pierced his arm, the blood soaking slowly into his clothing. He yanked the fang free.

And there stood Lance, video camera in hand, filming the entire spectacle.

"Catch that, did ya?" Monroe asked Lance, sarcastically.

Jack and Carrie emerged from their hiding place. They all stared dumbfounded at the massive dead horror.

"Careful, careful!" A crew member warned, as another was poking the creature with a stick.

"Stupid fish." Lance scoffed.

"Actually..." Jack verified. "...it's a reptile."

"Serves you right!" Lance shouted at the dead creature. "A lot of people would pay big money to see this, and even more to watch it on TV."

He turned to the triumphant Monroe, cleaning his wound, machete stained with blood beside him, gun in pieces on the ground.

"Charles Monroe, Sea Monster Slayer! Serve up a slice as a souvenir."

Monroe didn't share Devlin's optimism.

Jack slowly walked up to the dead beast, examining it, deep in fascination. Now, the creature's body was half-way onto the shore. They could all get a good look at the creature; over 40 feet long from head to tail, the _Elasmosaur_ had a dark body the colors of the sea and huge fins like those of a sea turle. He touched the smooth, scaly hide of the prehistoric marine reptile, as if it was a gesture to see if the creature was really there. A creature that should have died off millions of years ago, was now lying right in front of him.

He recognized it almost instantly.

"Elasmosaur." Jack verified, on instinct. "Early Jurassic to late Cretaceous."

"The rumors about the island were true."

"Yes, but this thing's no sea monster." Jack argued. "It was patrolling the island."

"If it's in the water, how come it hasn't already made it's may out to sea by now?" Monroe asked.

"It's habitat is isolated by geography. Look-" Jack pointed out to sea. "The reef network forms a natural barrier that confines it to the island."

"Not hungry? From the looks of whats left of Hector I'd say that thing was damn near _starving_."

"Exactly." Jack continued. He indicated Hector's remains grimly. "Notice the leftovers? A predator will almost always finish it's meal. It didn't attack us just because it was hungry, it was protecting it's territory."

"This thing would be perfect if someone was trying to shield this island from curious eyes." Monroe added in a faint, ominous tone.

Lance examined the footage of the debacle on his camera. So enthused.

"This thing's gonna make Nessie look like a bath-toy!"

He placed the camera back on the tripod and hoisted it back onto his back.

Monroe was sitting on a stone, wrapping a tourniquet around his wounded arm, ripping it in two with his teeth and tightening it. Once he was finished, he picked up the _Elasmosaur_ tooth resting next to him. He examined it for a few long seconds. He then took out a thin strand of rope, tied a knot around the top of the tooth and then placed it around his neck. A new and gruesome heirloom.

Jack looked down at the trophy dangling from Monroe's neck, fascinated, and more than a bit envious.

"Make a nice souvenir, don't ya think?" Monroe declared lavishly.

"Nice," Jack added.

The group moved away from the slain _Elasmosaur_, which sank slowly back into the dark water.

Ahead, daylight streamed in as they neared the end of the cave. They made their way over large stone blocks, caved in from above. Quiet. Tense.

The group followed Monroe up the dizzying rock formation, etched into the sheer cliff. The steps were narrow, unevenly spaced, and many were broken. They were so steep that they climbed as if on a ladder, their desperate fingers clinging to the steps above - trying not to look at the long black fall below them. Carrie's foot slipped and for a brief moment she was hanging precariously from the rock-face.

Then, over the noise of the tide below, and the sea birds above, a reverberating sound broke through the air.

"Do you hear that?" Carrie asked. "Sounds like a plane."

They watched as a small seaplane pierced the fog, soaring sharply towards the island.

"It's Aguado." Monroe confirmed. "He's spotted our distress signal."

The plane descended to a mere hundred feet above the shoreline.

"Down here!" Carrie shouted in vain. "We're over here!"

But the plane flew right past them.

"What's he doing? He's leaving! Why isn't he landing?" Carrie asked, concerned.

"He has to find a stretch of water protected from the storm." Monroe explained.

"Over there!" Carrie shouted, spotting an object on the other side of the cliff, about two-hundred yards away.

"He's dropped something." Monroe said. He led the team down toward the other side of the steep cliff. At the base, they found a crate swinging from a harness - it's parachute snagged on a rock spire above them.

Monroe ripped open the crate, revealing a small stockpile of weapons and provisions. He helped himself, giving handouts to the others.

"Thank God Aguado spotted us." he said. "Keep your eyes peeled. If I know him, he'll send us more."

"What about the second boat?" Carrie asked. "Jimmy and Colin and all the others?"

"I just hope they were able to get ashore." Monroe replied. "Nothing's gone right since we set foot on this island."

Monroe looked out hesitantly towards the dark, forboding jungles that awaited them.

"Come on guys! This is a chance of a lifetime!" Lance jumped in enthusiatically. "We're on Isla Muerte for God's sake! Plus, you get to be in a dinosaur documentary! What else do you want?"

A few of the company began to look at Lance with sheer skepticism.

Too few.

Having topped off their supplies, the group continued to ascend the terrain, heading deeper into the island.


	9. Chapter 8: Walk in the Park

_**Chapter 8: Walk in the Park**_

The team continued their trek through the island. The further they went, the more the island grew more lush and green and less rocky and barren. Jack followed Devlin, Monroe, and Carrie out of a cave onto a stone-like bridge.

"We're almost out in the open." Monroe observed. "We have to find the stretch of water at the center of the island. That's where the planes' gonna land."

They were a good distance inland now, far away from the beach, but close enough that the ocean still loomed past the rocks beyond them. The island shore was nothing more than a treacherous bit of wave-carved rock.

There was a thick fog at this level -- clouds, really -- but far below they could make out the ocean. And at its banks, a boat.

"The other boat!" Carrie shouted in excitement.

But things weren't looking good for the second boat. They were attempting to land, but the sea was still rough with the passing storm and the currents knocked them about like a toy in a bathtub.

"We'll see them again." Monroe insisted. "Let's go. The first thing we have to do is find a place for the plane to land."

Once the boat passed out of sight, they continued across the bridge and knocked another parachuted crate down and gathered the supplies. Monroe took some ammo for his shotgun, as well as a few other weapons. They went left from the crate, around a gathering of thorn bushes, through a narrow path. Ahead, the path began to widen before them.

Monroe led the group through a dark, damp cave ahead of them. When they exited, Monroe stayed low, and hurried to a vantage point. The others followed.

And directly below them there laid a plateau, covered with the ruins of an old compound, concrete buildings and shacks, smashed open and destroyed.

"What is this place?" Carrie asked.

"Looks like some kind of compound." Devlin answered.

"Where are the workers?" Carrie asked again.

"Something bad must have happened here." Jack inquired.

"Jack, would you relax?" Devlin insisted. He took out his camera, set it up, and began filming a few shots of the village.

Thunder rumbled overhead as Devlin, Jack, Carrie, Lenny, Mark, Monroe, and two sailors clambered out of the ruined pass.

Devlin stayed low, and hurried to a vantage point. The others followed.

Devlin as he led the group into the village. Spread among the ruins was a village - a crude shanty town, built very recently, ramshackle grass and buildings. It looked as though the village had been ravaged by some unnamed force, possibly a hurricane.

"It looks deserted..." Jack added as they walked caustiously through the ruined village.

Devlin was busy rolling film on the village. "Of course it's deserted. Use your eyes, Jack. The place is a ruin! Nobody's been here for months or even _years_."

"Look!" Carrie shouted, pointing toward the cloudy skies.

Above them, pterosaurs flew in great flocks. They were silvery in the rising sunlight, with long bullet-shaped bodies and powerful wings. They stretched their wings wide as they rode the wind. Some of them looked down at the humans curiously.

Jack identified them as _Cearadactylus__. _Carnivorous, but predominantly fish-eaters. Devlin filmed the creatures as they flew high above them.

The group moved deeper into the village.

But they were no longer alone.

As they approached, a pair of cold, reptillian eyes watched and waited. The image of the humans travelled from those eyes along the optic nerve to the owner's brain where the image referrenced it's memory and recognition took place.

Prey.

It's brain then sent a series of signals to it's lungs, hind legs, and clawed forearms.

The hunt had begun.

Monroe was growing uneasy. He held his rifle up at the ready.

He handed Jack a weapon - a small handgun, taken from the supply crate.

"Here, Jack. I've got a weapon for you. Take this. 9mm."

"I don't like guns." Jack protested. He didn't even like water-pistols as a kid. How much would he care for them _now_?

"I didn't ask you if you _liked_ it. _Take_ it." Monroe ordered.

Jack reluctantly took the weapon, studied it, and cocked it.

Just then, a rustling sound reached their ears. Monroe readied a handgun as both Jack and Lance scanned their surroundings. Something moved, accompanied by a loud scrape. Monroe cocked his pistol and nervously approached a crumbling garage.

SCREEEECH!!!!

A lizard-like shape jumped into the air. Instinctively, Monroe shot at it. The thing leapt from building to building, followed by a trail of bullet hits.

"Don't shoot! Don't shoot!" Devlin shouted. "We don't even know what it is!"

They heard the labored breathing of a living creature.

Jack turned to Devlin, the filmmakers eyes suddenly widened in disbelief.

A small, bird-like dinosaur, dark cyan with red stripes streaking its back, stood on the dusty path ahead of them. Only about the size of a rottweiler, it appeared to be a maturing juvenile. It stood on its clawed hind legs, balancing on a thick tail. A small crown of feathers lined the back of it's neck and more feathers splayed from it's scaled skin. It walked upright, bobbing its head like a bird.

It stared out at them, with weird, feral eyes.

"Finally!" Lance shouted. "Our first sighting!"

He moved forward slightly.

"Well hi there, little fella." he guiled. "What are you supposed to be? Some kind of weird bird-thing?"

The thing hissed at Lance, baring it's sharp teeth. Monroe pointed his gun at the bird-like shape. Devlin stopped him from firing.

While the others struggled to deduce what species it was, Jack was the only one who recognized it instantly:

Velociraptor.

Carnivore.

Pack-hunter.

Late Cretaceous.

A 6-inch sickle-like claw terminated from the first toe of each foot.

In deep shadow, the raptor observed with dark, crimson eyes.

A suspended moment. Devlin stepped forward.

Knowing the possible danger, Jack stepped up behind Devlin. "Lance...I think we should go back." he whispered warningly.

"I will handle this." Devlin assured.

Devlin slowly fished a Nestle Crunch candy bar from his pocket. Peeling back the wrapper, he slowly waved the candy. The raptor shrunk back, as if confused.

"Look, chocolate...you like chocolate?" he coaxed. He bit into the candy bar and chewed, noisily smacking his lips. He offered the candy again.

The raptor's eyes drilled into Devlin. It's strong tail slowly waved back and forth.

"Lance, I don't think-" Carrie began to warn.

"Carrie, trust me. I've been around predators more times than I can remember; hyenas, jackals, lions, network executives."

Monroe was not far away, his rifle slightly erect, waiting for the slightest transgression from the animal.

"Good to eat! Take it...take it!" Devlin continued.

The animal continued to stare at him. Lance squatted down on his haunches.

Cautiously, the raptor strode forward a few steps, it's claws scraping the ground.

The raptor drew closer. Lance held the candy bar in the palm of his hand. It bobbed its head, tore into the candy bar and scarfed it up.

"Jack, do you think more of them could be nearby?" Devlin questioned.

"They usually travelled in..." Jack began.

In the blink of an eye, more velociraptors began to melt out of the shadows.

"...Packs."

Devlin's smile faded. He turned his head slowly to the right. The raptors came in from all sides, forming a circle, barking and snarling as they surrounded the humans.

Jack immediately indicated the juvenile. "This one's a scout!"

"Bright idea." Devlin quipped. "Send out the young, dumb one."

As if in insulted reply, the juvenile lunged and sunk it's teeth into Devlin's wrist. He yelled in pain.

As Devlin wrestled with the juvenile, the other raptors leered at the frightened humans, their reptillian eyes aglow with murderous hunger.

The juvenile finally released it's grip on Devlin and ran off, disappearing into the velociraptor ranks.

The group started to nervously walk backwards, Devlin gestured impatiently.

Raptors emerged from around ruined buildings, as if from nowhere, before anyone could react.

Within mere seconds, they were completely surrounded.

The vicious carnivores stood six feet tall and, by Jack's guess-timate, weighed around 200 pounds each. They were bird-like in their appearance, with males having feather tufts on the back of their heads. They were also brightly colored and had small, red eyes. Both male and female velociraptors possessed feathered crests and a ridge of mid-body spines Jack supposed were displayed during courting rituals. While males sported varying shades of blue-green plumage and dark-striped cyan skin, females were mostly dull shades of orange and brown.

It made sense. In nature, in many cases where males and females appeared different, the males were the more colorful, as with birds.

The raptors' vocalizations were short, loud, hooting calls.

A raptor stepped forward, out of the gathering. He was bigger than the others and possessed a magnificent crown of blue, purple and green feathers.

Suddenly, Mark felt sharp teeth rip into his ankle. A raptor had caught him. He barely had time to cry out before the raptor yanked him away from under a rock.

Carrie stepped back in horror and screamed.

Panicked, the group scattered in all directions.

"No! Stay together!" Monroe shouted. "If we scatter, they'll pick us off!" But his warnings fell on deaf ears.

Monroe fired his shotgun. Smoke and flame shot out, blasting one of the raptors, blowing it right off it's feet. Monroe pumped the gun, the huge spent cartridge flipped through the air. He fired again, blasted another raptor, blew this one away as well. The smoke cleared.

Carrie jumped up and scrambled into the middle of the street, where she hit the dirt and crawled under a fallen shed in the middle of the road. Jack rolled over to the space where Carrie was, but she was gone now. He looked around frantically. Carrie rolled onto her feet and sprinted toward the building nearest her.

Mike, a cameraman, had nearly reached a hiding place of his own when he found himself headed off by a raptor. He turned to the other way, but found there were more raptors.**  
**  
He picked up a nearby large stone as the dinosaurs cautiously approached, eyeing him coldly. Not more than a few feet away, the leader of the trio stopped, peering at him. Mike threw the stone with all his might, but the dinosaurs feinted. From behind him, another raptor slashed at the back of his legs, severing his tendons. Mike cried out and fell to the ground.

Unable to walk, Mike attempted to crawl away from the animals. The effort clearly caused him great pain. But the raptors descended on Mike, making a meal out of him.

For several minutes the men fought and screamed and died dozens of velociraptors sprinted toward them.

Behind Carrie, a raptor gave chase, bounding after her with supernatural speed. Carrie ran flat-out, but her speed was nothing compared to the raptor's, and it gained on her rapidly.

In the midst of the confusion, Jack saw another raptor, the alpha-female of the pack, screaming at Carrie. The female's skin and feathers were the color of a desert stained with blood. She pierced through Carrie with her bright, golden eyes, veined with streaks of burnt sienna. She barked with rising hysterics.

Raising his pistol, Jack aimed for the female's head. But before Jack could fire his weapon, he was knocked to the ground, the gun flying from his grasp. He looked up to see a velociraptor, snarling down at him.

Elsewhere, Devlin swung at the raptors with a fallen branch. He was knocked to the ground, the raptors shrieking down at him. A bloodied, sickle-clawed foot slammed into Devlin's chest, pinning him down. The alpha-male of the pack prepared to slash Devlin's throat...

A gunshot rang out, piercing the air.

The alpha-male fell to the ground right next to a startled Lance, dead.

Mammal and reptile alike froze in their tracks.

The raptors hesitated, as if stunned. Their leader killed, they broke off and retreated. Monroe roughly hauled Devlin to his feet. "Seen enough?"

The velociraptors melted away into the darkness, vanishing as fast as they appeared.

The group bolted away, searching for a way out of the town and the madness that occupied it.

The alpha-female stood on a rock not far away, eyeing the escaping prey. Her burning golden eyes travelled to the dead body of her mate, lying in a steadily expanding pool of blood. The golden eyes burned with cold, reptillian fury.

The female shrieked, a cry of rage, echoing through the buildings to the cliffs.

The group ran through the town, Monroe and Jack scanning the area around them for more raptors. They continued on until they reached a dead-end. Not far behind, the raptors were re-grouping and coming at them again.

"Stay alert. We're on their hunting ground now." Monroe warned.

Carrie's horrified face, she saw human remains. Bones, skulls. The group had arrived amid dozens of skeletal remains littering the clearing.

"Damn it, we've hit a dead end. Looks like some kind of graveyard." Monroe cast an eye over the debris-strewn ground, his gaze rising to the far wall in front of them. The team had walked into a walled courtyard with no exits but the way they had come in.

Jack watched Devlin as he nonchalantly filmed the scene with uncontainable enthusiam. If Devlin was disturbed by the events just taken place, his face didn't betray it.

"This is the perfect place to shoot. Hehehe, this is _exactly_ why I love shooting "on location"; Authenticity. Real life!"

Startled by this behavior, Jack hesitated from responding.

Monroe stared at Lance in disbelief. People were _dying_, and this tosser was still filming his bloody documentary.

That's when they heard strange barking calls coming from behind them. The explorers turned to find the entrance blocked by a group of snarling raptors. Red streaks painted their skin and feathers like war-paint on war horses. Their orange eyes glowed with vengeance in the dimmed light.

"Take cover!" Monroe shouted.

Monroe raised his shot-gun and started unloading on them. In the middle of the firefight, Jack ran low on ammo, asking Monroe for his shotgun.

"Oh my God!" Lance yelled in hysteric excitement.

"Stick together!" Monroe shouted.

"Come on." Monroe said.

"Happy, Devlin?" " Monroe asked, vindictively. " Had your fill of "real life" yet?"

Examining the piles, Jack found saurian remains mixed in with the human bones.

In front of them, the central space was dominated by the skull of some huge creature, mounted on its own rotting skeleton with as much embellishment as a totem. Jack stepped forward slightly, unable to help himself. He examined the skull from a few feet away.

Dinosaur. Dromeosaurid. Vaguely familiar, but Jack was unable to catalogue it in his mind, and it's skeleton had been so torn apart that he was unable to judge anatomically. But he immediately deduced it as some kind of natural enemy to the raptors; A larger carnivore battling for land and hunting territory. Judging by it's position in the courtyard, it must have been boxed in by raptors on all sides. And when it was trapped, the leader went for the throat.

"Carrie, come on. Let's get a couple shots of you in front of this skull." Devlin suggested.

"Excuse me, Lance, but shouldn't we be focusing on finding Colin and the others?" Carrie questioned.

"Finding Colin? Oh, good idea! He must have atleast three cans of film with him." he answered, distracted.

Something about the skeleton fascinated Carrie. She bent forward, getting very close to the remains. She peered right into the eye sockets of the nightmarish creature. Then, a live velociraptor lunged at her through the skeleton's ribcage. She screamed.

"Look out!" Monroe shouted.

The group desperately fought off more of the voracious carnivores as they tore through the skeletons toward them, making an exit for them. The leaping fire-light of the gunshots played across the eye sockets of the strange dromaeosaurid skull, almost bringing it to life. It seemed to watch the combatants.

Once Jack's second round was finished, about four more raptors broke through the dromeosaurid skeleton at the wall. Monroe and Jack used their combined pistol/shotgun ammo to kill them. Now, the group headed through their new exit out of the boneyard.

"All clear, let's go." Monroe said.

The shotgun fired, blasting flame and smoke through the air. They raced down the passageway, a dozen raptors striding after them. The humans raced around a corner. More raptors. They raced around another corner. More raptors. Onward they came. Methodical. Relentless. Boxing in the humans. Jack and Monroe fired as they went.

On their left, from the shadows, another raptor leaped out in attack, right toward Lance, bringing him down. It bit at the back of his legs, trying to drag him away and finish the job. Lance cried out and dropped to the ground.

"Aaagh! Help!"

Jack immediately shot the raptor off of Lance. It crumpled to the ground in a heap. Monroe stepped forward, impressed.

"Well. Not bad, for a yank." he grinned, slapping Jack on the shoulder. Jack returned the smile.

"He's hurt! I'll take care of him." Carrie said, moving to crouch over Lance.

"That was a close one." Jack sighed.

Carrie carefully looked Lance over. Luckily, he had aquired only minor injuries; scratches and bruises, Jack had stopped the raptor before it could do any real damage. But Devlin's right ankle was worse off. It had fresh bite marks, the trousers torn, soaked with blood.

Carrie wrapped a belt around his ankle. Devlin winced in pain.

"Is it broken?" Devlin asked, worried.

"I think you'll be ok." Carrie replied.

"Not _me_. I was talkin' about the _camera_." Devlin corrected, indicating the movie camera, which was, miraculously, still in one piece.

"I don't know about the camera. I only know how to fix up _people_." she said, irritated.

They all followed Monroe out into the open, Devlin limping slightly at first. Monroe checked their surroundings. This part of the plateau was honey-combed with old, volcanic caves and passageways, most of them leading to dead ends. The silvery pterosaurs were everywhere, riding the morning wind. Many of them also perched on the island cliffs. Monroe led the group to a rickety metal bridge, spanning a section of broken pathway. At the end of the bridge, their was another supply crate, smashed open on impact.

"Go ahead, Jack. I'll cover you. Be careful." he said, keeping a sharp eye on both land and sky.

Jack headed to the far end across the framework. The rusting bridge suddenly caved in, separating Jack from Devlin and Monroe, but Carrie began climbing the rock face to her right, heading toward Jack on the other side.

"Wait for me, Jack! I'm coming with you!" she shouted.

"Carrie, are you crazy?!" Jack yelled.

"I know what I'm doing." she said. "I'm coming Jack!"

She was only a foot away from the ledge when four raptors led out from their hiding places. They almost caught her as she pulled herself up on the wall.

Jack stood at the ledge, gun cocked, shooting to protect her from the several charging raptors as she climbed across. Running low on ammo, Jack grabbed the pistol right behind him in the broken crate. Once she made it completely across, she was on the ledge above him. Jack rushed toward the rock face, trying to make his way to her. He ran up the hill and started across the rusting bridge. Once across, the two met up.

"Hurry! We'll meet up at the top, call the plane and get outta this hellhole." Monroe declared. The great-white hunter cocked his gun, letting loose a flying shell. "Come on, Devlin." With that, Monroe and Devlin proceeded into the maze of rock on there side of the divide, Devlin hoisting his precious, barely-scratched tripod camera on his back.

With a raptor in hot pursuit, Carrie came flying. Carrie jumped across the rivine, leaping onto the rock wall. Jack went for the stone steps, jumping over to them three at a time.

Raptors went after the two, scrambling over the rocks onto the rock face. The two scampered down the wall, searching for footing wherever they could get it. The raptor was just one beat behind, and it's snarling face as it chased.

The two burrowed into the nearest rock crevasse for protection. They broke off rubble and hurled it down at the raptor. The raptor was undeterred, closing the gap on the them. Jack and Carrie climbed down off of the rock walland onto a platform, part of the original bridge. They continued onto the platform. They suddenly saw a raptor, much too far to jump onto the rock face, so Jack climbed gingerly onto the nearest ledge, perilously close to the hungry raptor.

It dropped down again, and they kept moving forward. But now another raptor erupted right below them. The raptor's jaws snapped just inches from Jack's leg. But the raptor couldn't hold itself up there, and it fell back to the ground.

Jack looked around frantically and spotted the outcrop a few yards away.

They moved for it, but the raptor leaped up at them again, this time right underneath Carrie.

Jack smashed his boot into the side of the raptor's head. The raptor slammed at him, latching onto his boot for a second before the raptor's own weight pulled it back down. Carrie went down with the raptor, losing her grip on the rock, tumbling down. Jack grabbed her by the arm at the last second, but Carrie dangled there, above the raptor. The animal flipped over onto its feet and crouched to pounce just as Jack summoned his strength and jerked Carrie back onto the ledge.

The raptor sprung, but too late. Jack and Carrie scrambled over the ledge and onto the cliff.

Meanwhile, Devlin and Monroe moved along down below. Monroe moved carefully along the path, Devlin falling behind, lugging his heavy video equipment. The raptors were gone for now, but now with hungry pterosaurs hunting in the morning skies, too much movement might attract their attention.

So far, the pterosaurs that hovered up so high in the air and that perched on craggy rocks in the hills had not spotted the humans. The early morning mist shrouded them from view. Yet Monroe kept careful watch, prepared to shoot any pterosaur that swooped from the sky - or any raptor that gave them more trouble.

The silvery cearadactyls were everywhere. Many of them perched on the island cliffs. The creatures were more active now. More of them landed on the crags above, as if waiting to descend upon them. The two remained in the shadows, moving beneath rocks, afraid they might be spotted.

At the moment, he was more concerned about the cearadactyls than the raptors.

Jack and Carrie carefully made there way along their own trail, Jack taking ahold of Carrie's hand to lead her. Sometimes, Jack had to wait painful minutes until some cearadactyl would turn it's scaly silver head.

He glanced toward the ocean. Not far off, a gleaming cearadactyl dropped like a bullet toward the sea, its wings folded. It plunged into the pounding surf, then flapped its wings. As it rose from the white-capped waves, a huge glittering fish wriggled in it's mouth.

Thankfully, the cearadactyl had not seen him. Or if it had, it did not care for human flesh. Perhaps the pterosaurs had never seen animals on land until now, and did not think to hunt there.

At first, Monroe had been weary of the pterosaurs, and he'd kept still, ordering Devlin to do the same, hoping they'd be mistaken for rocks. But gradually, Monroe grew more comfortable.

These pterosaurs were probably fish-eaters, nothing more.

And then, from directly behind them, there was a strange noise. Something like an _urp_.

There, standing hugely at Devlin's back, was a cearadactyl. It had landed so silently, he had not heard it. It was the first he'd seen up close. The pterosaur had furry down over all of its body and huge yellow eyes like those on a fish. It had huge claws on each wing and its mouth had the strangest teeth, like huge needles that arced down from its gums. The monster's teeth vaguely reminded Monroe of a mako shark he'd seen off the coast of Madagascar.

The cearadactyl glared at Lance with it's large eyes, studying him. After a few tense moments, the creature cocked it's head--

And suddenly snapped at Lance with it's nasty-looking jaws.

Monroe turned and fired at the pterosaur. It flapped away, startled. But it did not end there. The gunshot had attracted others from the flock, who now flew in and perched on the rocks above, studying the humans below.

This did not bode well.

* * *

Further above, Jack and Carrie had found their own problems. Standing not twenty feet ahead of them, was a raptor, a scout, on the prowl. The two immediately struggled for a hiding place, but to no avail, as before the raptor had seen them with glaring reddish eyes, it had smelled them. It sized them up, like a lion, preparing to attack. Jack struggled to load a cartridge into his pistol as the raptor approached. Finally, as it coldly approached and finally leapt into the air at them, Jack cocked the gun and fired, hitting the raptor right between the eyes. The animal fell in a heap in front of them. Not far away, hearing the noise, a second raptor turned a corner.

This time, the two found a hiding place behind some sparse shrubbery. The raptor studied the area, snapping it's jaws and purring deeply, searching for signs of a threat or prey. It spotted the dead raptor ahead. It stepped toward it's fallen comrade, studied him for several long seconds - then tore into the flank of the fallen raptor, tearing off a piece of meat.

"Did you see that?" Carrie asked, astonished. "They eat their wounded."

"Yeah. Everything on this island seems to be food for something else, so let's try to stay off the menu, huh?" Jack suggested. Together, they slunk away, heading for the higher ridge, escaping the feasting raptor.

* * *

Monroe continued to hold off the inquisitive and hungry cearadactyls. The gunfire attracted them by the score now, and cearadactyls shrieked in the air, flocking down from the cliffs. Several of the creatures had collapsed around them, but others were wheeling from the skies in a feeding frenzy.

Jack looked down from the cliff, watching the struggle.

Cearadactyls screamed, a great shrieking cry, and dove out of the air on leathery wings. They soared over the stones and swiveled their heads. Teeth gleamed in the daylight. The men scattered and tried to hide beneath huge slabs of stone.

"We've gotta get outta this nightmare." Carrie said. Jack took her hand and led her into another cave passage.

Suddenly, a great shadow blocked the sunlight at the mouth of the cave exit. A cearadactyl shrieked, a cry so piercing that the walls around Jack and Carrie trembled. They pressed themselves against the side of the cave. Outside the mouth of the fissure, the pterosaur clutched the rock with it's wing talons. It let out a piercing cry again, and Jack knew it was no use.

They'd been seen.

The pterosaur's shriek had alerted others from the flock. They vied for position as the first pterosaur wedged its long silver head into the cave opening. Teeth longer than hypodermic needles flashed near Jack's face, and he could smell the scent of dead fish on the pterosaur's breath.

Below, Monroe still struggled to fight off the attacking pterosaurs. Devlin, weaponless, was forced to stand back and only film the struggle. It was just them now. What few crew members had survived the raptor attack had been quickly picked off by the frenzying cearadactyls.

For a moment, the pterosaur beat its wings against the stones, blocking their escape.

The battle became a dance of sheer survival.

After several long minutes, Monroe began backing toward the mouth of the cave. He had an idea. If he could kill the cearadactyls at the very mouth of the cave, the bodies would block the entrance. If enough entrances were blocked, they might have a chance. He fought his way back ferociously, shooting and clubbing. He had just gained the entrance when he heard a familiar shriek.

Monroe barely had time to glance at the pterosaur, for three more pterosaurs had gathered at the mouth of the cave.

Devlin sat huddled beneath his rock, filming the debacle. Cearadactyls lay at Monroe's feet, and more were coming. The hunter stood with the mouth of the cave yawning wide behind him, aiming his rifle and preparing for the worst.

Smoke rose from the cearadactyls' mouths as they let out their piercing cries in the chilled morning air. But the cries had changed from hunting cries to signals. Suddenly, what was left of the flock shrieked and leaped into the air. The pterosaurs circled the cliffs twice, then flew off in defeat.

Exhausted and weary, the four humans continued on their respective paths. They had no choice.


End file.
